The Great Storm

5

(3099 words)

Leaning back in your chair, you let out a long, drawn out sigh.

You check your phone, seeing the late time and closing your eyes in slight exasperation.

"At least the syllabus is all written up." You groan, placing your head on the cool wood of the desk. It was nearing eight in the evening, and you were hungry.

Lem said he had something that you needed to know about, so he was going to walk you home, but he hadn't texted you saying that he left yet.

You don't move until your phone buzzes, turning your head and squishing your cheek against the desk. It was Lem, he said he was on his way, and you let out another sigh before standing up and turning off the lamps.

When you exit the office, you notice how light peeks from underneath Lucien's door.

Your curious expression grows gentle as you remember the previous day's event. His hand was warm, it felt nice to hold as you ran through the pouring rain.

Still; seeing him here so late is unexpected.

Slowly, you approach the door, raising a hand and hesitating. You don't want to annoy the man, will it be okay if you interrupt two days in a row?

Why does the thought of him being annoyed with you make you so uneasy?

Well, it's now or never.

You knock on the door, a nervous knot forming in the pit of your stomach.

Lucien's brows unfurrow, confused. Someone's still here?

"It's, uh, Y/N?"

His eyes widen. You're still here?

"Oh, come in." He responds, closing his journal and laptop as the door opens, finding his irritation slipping away as he sees you. His search wasn't going well.

"Sorry for interrupting." You rub the back of your neck, him fondly watching you.

"It's okay, I needed a break anyway." He lets out a chuckle, seeing how you loosen up.

"I guess I just wanted to say that I was leaving, or that you shouldn't stay too late." You smile awkwardly, still unsure as to why exactly you knocked in the first place.

"Ah, well, you're definitely right about that." He stretches his arms above his head. "I probably will begin to pack up soon, thank you for reminding me."

"Wouldn't want you to overwork yourself, now would we?" You pause, and something comes to mind. "Oh, should we share contact info?"

He feels his heart damn near stop. "I... think so, yeah."

You give him a bright grin, and (it seems as usual), it takes his breath away. Walking to his side, you pull out your phone, moving to contacts before slightly leaning against the side of his chair. "What's your number? Or should we exchange, like, emails?"

He forces any reaction to your proximity down, humming slightly shakily. "I think numbers are fine."

You raise a brow at his wobbly tone, noticing the slight red hue his cheeks and ears had. "So then, what's your number?"

He pauses for a moment, mind blank. "Sorry, sorry, it's..."

He begins to list numbers, and it isn't long before you fill in his contact, smiling as you step away. "Alright, just sent you a text."